Sophia Holmes and the Speckled Blonde
by Dralice99
Summary: Book 7 Early thirties, dyed blonde hair, strange red speckles all over her body. The woman, Julia Stoner, had been found in her bed. There seemed to be no obvious cause of death. Although natural causes would seem most likely, Sherlock suspects there may be foul play involved.
1. Prologue

Recap

When I get up the next day, I see John is already awake and in the living room, typing up our case. Dad comes up behind me as I move over towards the sofa, and he looks at the screen.

"'Geek Interpreter,'" dad reads aloud. "What's that?"

"It's the title," John replies shortly.

"What does it need a title for?" He questions, and I look up to see John smile tightly.

"Um, John," I say, quickly slipping an arm out of my shirt leaving my shoulder exposed. "My stitching, it's opened up."

"Oh shit," he says, slamming his laptop shut and coming over to look. Dad follows him over to watch as John inspects it.

"Must have been the strain from yesterdays fight," dad tells me, and I roll my eyes.

"No shit Sherlock," I reply through a clenched jaw as John pokes around at it.

"Oi, language," John says sternly and I grimace slightly.

"Well, it is quite obvious," I tell him. I open my mouth to say some more, but he stands back up.

"I'm just going to go out and get some supplies to stitch you back up, but until then ..." he pauses for a moment as he moves into the kitchen for the first aid kit, "... you're going to have to hold this on. I won't be long. Sherlock, get her some painkillers. Don't let her fall asleep." John leaves, and I hear dad in the kitchen, knocking boxes of medicine aside to find the painkillers. We seem to be all out.

"Mrs H will have some," I tell him softly, and he nods, sprinting down the stairs. He isn't thinking straight. I'm his weakness. I'm also very tired. I hear Mrs Hudson's door open downstairs as my eyes flutter closed, and my hand falls from my shoulder.

Prologue

I wake up for the second time in one week in a hospital bed plugged into a machine. My vision is hazy, but I can make out a figure by my bedside. It's not dad, the figure is too short for him, and it can't be John because only family members are allowed in here. So who is it? I try and pick up the energy to ask, but my throat is too dry and no sound comes out. I see the door open and then close, and they're gone. I try and remember what she looked like: they were female, dressed in dark, skinny jeans and a white top. Their hair was long and black, and all piled into a neat updo. But who was she? I'm sure that if I wasn't hooked up to this, I would recognise her immediately.

Not long after she leaves, dad comes into the room, holding two polystyrene cups of hot chocolate. He looks worried, and his gaze falls to my shoulder. I look down at it myself. It's been stitched back up while I was asleep, but I'm guessing due to my apparent blood loss I had to spend the night here, in St Barts. How convenient.

"Are you alright?" he asks me, handing me one of the cups. I breath in the smells of the mint chocolate liquid and I nod. I want to tell him about the woman, but before I can even begin to try, he starts speaking again. "Lestrade's outside, wanted to make sure you were alright." Silence. "He thinks he has a case for us." I look up at him questionly as I blow softly and take a cautious sip. "Woman in the morgue downstairs, died yesterday. No obvious cause of death, he wants us to take a look."

"Has Molly autopsied her yet?" I question, my voice feeling rough against the back of my throat.

"Next on her list," he tells me. "The doctor says you're able to leave when you're ready, but to take it easy. Did you want to come down?" I nod.


	2. Chapter One

A few minutes later, I'd been unplugged, completed a few forms, gotten changed and met back up with John and Lestrade, before heading down to the morgue.

The body is layed out on the table for us to look at.

"This is Julia Stoner, thirty two. Died yesterday," Lestrade tells us as we surround her and dad and I instantly whip out our magnifying glasses to look at her. Lestrade watches us as we move the glasses up and down her body.

"Do people actually read your blog?" dad asks as the mental note comes forward to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Where d'you think our clients come from?" John questions, looking her up and down without a magnifyer.

"We have a website."

"In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash," John says harshly. "Nobody's reading your website." I straighten up and glare at him.

"It's very useful information, actually," I tell him. "You can tell a lot from a man's smoking habits." Dad is paying no attention. He seems to have found what he was looking for, and now he's making his way towards the door, unnoticed by John.

"Right then: dyed blonde hair; no obvious cause of death except for these speckles, whatever they are." He points at the small red marks which are dotted all over her body before he realises dad has already left. "Sophie, got anything more?"

"There's an indent on her left hand which shows the marks of a ring - too thin to be a wedding ring, I'd say engagement is more likely, considering her age." John nods, following me so far. "I don't know if you saw it, but there are also two little puncture marks on her right ankle. I would say she was poisoned." I look up at Lestrade. "When will we get back the results from the autopsy?"

"Molly said they should be back by tomorrow, earliest," he tells me. I bite my lip in contemplation and stride towards the doors dad left by. "Sophie, don't go pressurising her," Lestrade warns.

"I'm not, I'm going to help," I tell him truthfully. I've never actually performed an autopsy, but I've seen Molly do it several times and I know how do it back to front in theory. It shouldn't be hard to do in practice.


	3. Chapter Two

It would seem that dad has had the same idea as I did, as he is settled down by the microscope when I enter the lap. Molly is standing by a rack of test tubes, and she drops a different solution into each.

"Have we identified the poison yet?" I ask, breaking the silence and causing the test tube that Molly is currently holding to drop and smash on the floor.

"Not yet," dad replies. "You saw the marks, then."

"Almost immediately," I reply. "I came up to hurry things along a bit."

After half an hour of getting nowhere with testing Stoner's blood, we stop.

"We've been here before," dad says thoughtfully, throwing his petri dish across the room in anger. "An unidentifiable poison."

"Could she have been bitten by something," Molly asks quietly. "A snake perhaps?"

"That would be the obvious answer," I reply. "Things like this are never that simple." As I say this, John walks through the lab door.

"Wondered when you'd join us," dad said, standing up and beginning to pace. "I need you to phone around the local zoos, see if they're missing any snakes."

"You think she was bitten?" John questions after a moment.

"We can't be sure," I admit. "There is an unidentifiable posion in her blood stream. We're just eliminating the impossible at the moment."

"What are you two going to do?"

"Check around with Julia's friends and family," dad tells him, packing up. "Somebody must know something."


	4. Chapter Three

Julia Stoner was still living with her stepfather, Doctor Roylott and her sister, Helen when she died, so we decide to call upon them at first.

"What was her stepfather's occupation?" I ask, quickly flicking through her file. "It hardly mentions him in here."

"Cosmetics," dad replies, looking out of the window at the passing houses. "Specialist, judging by location." I continue to flick through until I see her biological father's death certificate.

"Huh," I frown, showing dad, "look. Julia's father, Edward Stoner, deceased 1990 - twenty years ago -, unknown poison."

"I know," dad says grimly, and flicks to a page near the end of the file. "Her mother, died eight months ago. Guess what she died of ..."

"An unknown poison," I finish. "How did the police not see this - it's so obvious?!"

"They are known for their stupidity," dad remarks.

"Do you think money is the motive?" I question, looking out of the window. "Belgravia is an expensive area. Maybe someone's after the family fortune."

"No," dad replies. "Look at their parent's occupatons. Edward Stoner was a plumber, and Kathrine was a secretary. No, the money came from DrRoylott."We pull into Belgravia, and the cab stops just outside number 39.

A few moments later, we climb out and head up the stone steps towards the front door. Beside the glossy black door, a plaque is attatched to the wall.

"For a specialist, I wouldn't have expected his business to be run from home," I tell dad as the doorbell rings out.

"He has another office in the centre of London," dad explains. "This is only for the elite customer."

The door is opened by a young female in a loose white tunic, her dyed blonde hair twisted into a bun on the top of her head.

"Hello," she says, eyeing our appearance with her heavily made up eyes. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," dad says, launching into his role at once and imitating Mycroft's accent. "I made an appointment for my daughter." I give the receptionist a smile, but she frowns and goes back to her desk and checks her diary. We follow her in.

"What was the name?" she asks, flicking through the pages and tracing her finger down today's list of appointments.

"Kensington," dad says in a heartbeat. The woman looks up, and frowns at us.

"I'm afraid there isn't anyone under the name of 'Kensington' with an appointment today, sir," she says polietly. "Can I suggest you -"

"But daddy, you promised!" I cry, stamping my foot and walking away, tears falling from my eyes.

"I'm sorry poppet," dad says, before he turns back to the receptionist. "Please, I made this appointement months ago for my daughter's birthday."

"Dr Roylott is in the midst of a personal issue at the moment, I'm afraid," she tells us. "His daughter was found dead in her bedroom a few nights ago."

"I'm sure we can pass on our condolences when we see him," dad snaps back. The receptionist pauses for a second and dad reaches into his pocket for his wallet. "Here's £50 towards your next botox injection," dad tells her, handing her a note.

"Dr Roylott is upstairs, first door on the right," she tells us, hastily tucking the note into her tunic.

"Thank you," dad says, and then takes my hand. "Come on, poppet."

Once we start climbing the stairs, we drop our roles. We would have never passed reception if we had said we were detectives, so we've passed first base. As we reach the landing, I notice and long line of framed certficates and pictures on the walls, one of them including a photo taken of a man who I can only assume is Doctor Roylott along with Connie Prince after the filming of her show in which he must have guest starred. We continue onwards, following the Receptionist's instructions, and open a door, causing an overweight woman, also wearing a white tunic to jump as she turns around and sees us.

"Helen Stoner?" I question and she nods. "My name is Sophia Holmes, and this is my father Sherlock. We're detectives and we're looking into your sister's death - do you have a moment?"

"Um, yes." she replies, directing us to sit down on two chairs which face towards another, single chair and a desk. The room looks like the room of any GP's office, with the bed at one side agaist the wall. "Sorry," she apologised as she began to cry again. "Neither of us have been able to work for the last few days - we just can't believe she's gone."

"Is there anything about your sister that seemed a bit strange?" dad asks, suprisingly gentle for once. "Mood swings, claiming she wanted to commit suicide - anything like that?"

"Do you think she committed suicide?" Helen ask, astonished.

"Just ruling out the impossible."

"My sister wasn't depressed," Helen tells us. "She was a little rundown, I suppose, these last few weeks, but I thought she was just stressed about the wedding."

"Yes," I say. "I noticed the little mark of where an engagement ring would be when we autopsied your sister's body." She looks a little horrified, perhaps because I just told her that her sister had been autopsied by a fourteen year old. "Do you have the name and address of her fiance, it's just he wasn't noted down on her file."

"Of course," she says, standing up from her chair. "Sorry, give us a second." She disappears out of the room.

"What do you think?" I ask dad.

"She seems genuine," dad replies. "She didn't play any part in Helen's death." Our conversation is interupted as the door is opened again, but it isn't Helen who comes through the door, but the man from the photographs - Doctor Roylott himself.

"Julliette just informed me that you were up here," he says, engrossed in a file as he walks in. "Sorry, how can I help you?" He looks up at us at last, and the file falls from his hands. "You aren't clients."

"Well observed," I say. "My name is -"

"I know who you are," the doctor interrupts. "You two are the Holmes detectives. I've read your website, and your partner's John." Dad and I exchange glances. With John's blog becoming more and more popular, I guess we must have to get used to having a public eye, which isn't good if we want to remain as private detectives.

"Yes, that's right," dad responds. "We just asking your stepdaughter a few questions about Julia."

"Ah, yes," Doctor Roylott replies. "Those two were very close. It's such a shame that I didn't get to spend a lot of time with Julia before she died. She reminded me a lot of her mum."

"She's dead as well, isn't she?" I question, asking what I already know to get his side of the story. "Do you know what happened?"

"No," Doctor Roylott shakes his head and picks up the fallen pieces of paper. "I'm afraid the doctor who examined her couldn't say." The door opens again, and this time, it is Helen who pokes her head around the door.

"Mr Holmes? I have the address for you," she says, walking in and handing dad a slip of paper. I can't help but notice how Helen and Doctor Roylott avoid each other's glances, as Roylott is taking his time with the fallen paper, and Helen has her eyes fixed on us.

"Thank you both for your time," I say as we stand up.

"Yes, sorry for your loss," dad finishes, and we walk back out of the house, ignoring the confused look the Receptionist gives us on our way out.


	5. Chapter Four

John phones just as we leave Belgravia with the news that he had phoned around all of the local zoos - even the aqurium just to be sure - and none of them had reported any snakes missing. Even if there were, they would have had to find a way across the Themes to get to Belgravia, and the bridge would be too busy. There is just too many factors which go against the snake idea, so we pick John up from Baker Street, then head to see Percy Armitage, Julia's fiance, in his flat in Lambeth.

The door to Percy Armitage's flat is opened by someone who looks like a teenage boy who was exicted to grow their very first beard and had therefore never trimmed it. His beard, therefore, is a tangeld brown mess which meets the collar of his loose t-shirt. He isn't the first person I would have pictured with someone like Julia Stoner, but then again, who am I to talk about love?

He shows us in when we show him our stolen police badges. After a skeptical glance, he directs us into his living room, where I freeze by the door at the sight of the boa constricter which is currently weaving its rather large body around the furniture. Dad gives me a gentle shove from behind, and swallowing down my fears, I walk into the room, but keeping as far as I can from the snake. As we soon find out, it isn't the only snake he keeps.

"So, I guess this is about Julia," he says, clearing a seat for us by moving a collection of dusty books and other genearl clutter which looks like the only use it has now is to get in the way.

"Yes," I say, pausing as another snake slithers onto the back of the sofa I was going to sit on.

"Oh, don't worry about him," Armitage says smiling. "That's Terry, and he's harmless."

"Yeah, that's not actually my problem with them," I say as dad moves it away and then we sit down.

"Julia had a fear of snakes too," Percy says thoughtfully. "Wouldn't go near them." I exchange a look with dad, remembering the smallpuncture marksin her ankle.

"Would there be any chance of one biting her?" I question. "Did you ever take one to her house."

"I kept then locked up in their tanks whenever she came over," Percy replies. "So no, my snakes did not - wait, you think that it was my fault, don't you? You think that I let one of my snakes out to kill Julia - is that what you think?"

"What were you doing that night?" dad asks. "Did she come over, maybe watch a movie as you two snuggled up cosily on your couch."

"No, I'm telling you! I didn't see Julia that day, and I was at work until seven before leaving for the pub. I didn't leave there until closing time - the barman should back me up on that."

I look over at dad. His hands are pressed up tightly together as he thinks. Percy certainly isn't lying, we've been working in this trade for long enough to spot the signs.

"Thanks for your time," I say, standing up with dad. "We'll be in contact when we hear something. I'm sorry for your loss."

"No, wait -" but we are already making our way through the flat's door.


	6. Chapter Five

"I just don't get it!" dad yells one morning, a few days after the start of our case, shooting more holes into the wall. It has been tense in 221B over the last few days, nobody knowing where the case could go next. It wouldn't be the first time we would leave a case unsolved, but there's still something which nags in my mind about this whole thing.

"Are you sure we're looking at murder?" John questions, taking his hands down from his ears as dad stops shooting for a moment and as I look up the various snakes I had seen at the flat and compare them against the poison they inject their victims with.

"No, it's definitely murder," I say. "But i just don't see how a snake could be released into Stoner's house, get up to their bedroom, kill Julia as she's sleeping and then get away without being seen. Somebody must have seen something."

As if on cue, dad's phone begins to vibrate and then ring as a call comes through.

"It's Helen," I say, tossing the device over. I watch anxiously as dad accepts the call and places the phone to his ear.

"Yes, it's me," he says, and his eyes widen. "Calm down. Repeat that again." I exchange glances with John. This isn't good. "Alright, phone again if you feel any different." Dad takes the phone back down as the call ends. "Helen is beginning to see the same symptoms Julia had in herself. She said she woke up this morning feeling tired and depressed. She doesn't know why."

"So whatever happened to Julia is happening to Helen now?" I confirm. "So is our murderer hunting down the family, slaying each member as they go? Why leave it so long between their mother and father's poisionings to kill the daughters?"

"I don't know," dad admits. "And I hate not knowing."

"Wait," John says. "You said that she could be Julia's murder all over again, but couldn't it just be grief?"

"It's been almost a week," dad says, frowning. "Surely she should have recovered from it by now."

"Sherlock," John warns. "Sentiment."

"A feeling I'm sure I'll never get my head around," dad says and I hear my name mentioned as John mutters something which is otherwise incomprehensible. I bite my lip and think for a moment more, pressing my fingers together and breathing in as I go through the standard proceedure. What to do when all else fails. When we're back to square one.

"I know what we need to do," I perk up, attracting the men's attention. "We need to relive Julia Stoner's last night alive. Maybe it could throw up some more things that we've perhaps missed."

"Brilliant, Sophie," dad says. "We'll also be able to observe Helen's behaviour and make sure nothing attacks her during the night."

"Alright, seems as though you two are sorted," John says. "I guess I'll see you two back here tomorrow then?"

"Oh no," I smirk. "You're coming with us."


	7. Chapter Six

We decide to start back at the house, even though Julia had been out earlier that evening with some friends, according to Helen.

"Hi," Helen says as she opens the door for us. Her face is red and blotchy, and any makeup which she had been wearing had clearly been washed off after it had been ruined. "Her room's upstairs, last on the right, but I've prepared some of the other rooms for two of you."

"That's very helpful," I say, darting past her and into the house. "Thank you."

"If you spend the night in Julia's room, Sophie, we'll scout around the rest of the house," dad suggests.

"I was going to say that myself," I agree.

Lying on the table in Julia's room, I see Helen has left us out a timetable of her sister's activities during the day and night. After getting home from spending four hours in a pub with her friends, she came home, not too drunk apparently, and had a bath before getting something to eat and going to bed. So when midnight chimes, we get into position and I re-enact Julia's last moments.

Starting by the front door, I walk slowly over to the stairs, and climb them steadily, cautious of the stilleto heels which dad has forced onto my feet. Other than my heels, I'm wearing a short red sundress, which is altogether as similar to the outfit that Julia was wearing that night as we could get. Dad stands at the top of the stairs, taking photos of my every movement.

He follows me along the corridor as I reach the first floor, and we pass the labs and the rooms with the surgery equipment, but if the CCTV that Helen showed us earlier in the evening, Julia didn't step foot in any of those rooms, so neither do I.

As I arrive back at 'my' room, I put my small clasp bag away in the wardrobe before walking into the bathroom. As I had been doing throughout this entire reenactment, I look around at my surroundings and pick up an expensive-looking bottle of bubble bath which I suspect she would have used. Dad and John follow me in and dad takes the bottle from my hand as I see the label. Roylotts - their stepfather's company.

"Helen!" I call a few moments later, banging on her bedroom door which is opposite Julia's. I hear the bedside lamp switch on, and she comes slowly over to the door.

"Miss Holmes," she yawns. "Did you find something?"

"Do you also use your step-father's bubble bath?" dad asks her, catching up with me as he comes out of Julia's bedroom.

"Er," she thinks for a moment before darting back inside again. Helen emerges a few seconds later holding an identical bottle to which we had found. "Yeah, look. It's not available in the shops yet. James, my stepfather, gave it to Julia a couple of weeks ago to try out, but he only gave it to me last week." I smile as the strings are beginning to tie together.

"Do you mind if we take both bottles away for analysis?" I question. Helen looks startled.

"You think it's from the bubble bath?"

"Yes, maybe," I reply. It's the first lead in days.


	8. Chapter Seven

It's definitely one of those times that I'm happy that Bart's labs are open 24 hours a day. We've been cooped up in Baker Street with no new leads for days. I just hope this isn't another dead end.

Molly is just finishing off her shift when we arrive. Her eyes are drooping slightly as she heaves her bag onto her shoulder, yet they widen considerabley when she sees us.

"Oh, Sherlock," she says in suprise.

"Are you wearing a new shade of lipstick?" Dad queries. "It suits you."

"Oh," she says again, blushing to the shade of her lipstick. "Yes ... um ... thanks?"

"We need to use one of your labs," dad says, dropping his tactic of using compliments.

"But I was just about to - "

"Please?"

"Oh, alright then," she sighs, and leads us up to our usual lab. "What do you need?"

"We're trying to analyse this," I say, holding up the bottle. "The more hands in, the better."

"So why's Sherlock having us analyse a bottle of woman's bubble bath?" Molly asks me softly a while later as we each hole a pipette over seperate petri dishes.

"Oh don't worry," I tell her. "It's for a case." I see her shoulders relax slightly as I say this.

"I wasn't -"

"Molly," I say, raising my eyebrows slightly. "It is a little obvious." Molly blushes and keeps her head down as she finishes her test.

"Oh!" Dad cries, standing up suddenly from his stool. "Of course!"

"What is it?" I question, dropping my pipette into the solution and jogging over to where he looks over to me, excited.

"Polonium," he tells us all as John and Molly gather around us. "A slow-acting poison and practically unidentifiable if you don't know what you're looking for."

"So each time Helen or Julia used it, they were killing themselves," I expand, and dad nods in agreement. "Well I think that narrows the murderer down considerabley."

"Don't you think we should warn Helen first before we barge into her house?" John queries. "She could keep an eye on Doctor Roylott to ensure he doesn't make a run from it. I think we owe her an explanation before we bang her stepfather up." I nod in agreement and take my phone out, immediately dialing her number and placing it on speaker phone.

"Hello?" Helen's voice answers.

"It's Sophia Holmes," I reply. "The bottle of bubble bath your stepfather gave the both of you has tested positive for Polonium."

"Which means?" Her voice catches, as if she already has an idea.

"Your stepfather has been poisioning you."

"But that's impossible," she cries. "He promised he'd tested it - it was safe."

"Give it here," dad says, taking the phone from me. "How idiotic can you be?" He asks, and John shifts slightly, obviously uncomfortable with the tone he's giving the woman. "He wasn't going to tell you it was poisioned, that would be ridiculous. No, this wasn't an accident. Your stepfather killed your sister in cold blood, so unless you want to be reunited, I suggest you listen."

"But I don't understand - the snake bite!" Dad paused as he let out a sigh of annoyance.

"Your stepfather is clever. He pricked Julia's ankles with needles from his clinic to deflect attention onto Percy - your sister's fiance - and his snakes. But his genius had it's weak point - Julia's phobia of snakes. Anyone who really knew Julia would know that she wouldn't go near them. That was his mistake."

"Oh my god," I hear her mutter.

"Helen," I say, snatching the phone back off of dad. "We're coming over now, but we need you to keep an eye on Doctor Roylott. He knows something's going on, he'll try and make a run for it. Don't make it obvious you're watching him." I disconnect the call, grab my coat and whisk out of the door.


	9. Chapter Eight

The ride back to Belgravia seems to take an age, and I cling onto the bottle of bubble bath so tight that my knuckles turn white. I can't shift the feeling that something's gone wrong. I want to call Helen again, but I'm probably exaggerating.

What seems like an hour later, we finally pull into Belgravia. It's four o'clock in the morning, and I'm exhausted. Helen lets us in when we knock.

"He woke up five minutes ago," she tells us quietly as we cross the hall. "I saw him heading down to the kitchen."

She's the first to see him. The ceiling fan rotates slowly above the counter. A rope is wrapped around one of the blades and the tips of his shoes draw small circles on the surface.

A quick inspection confirms it's suicide.

"I don't understand," Helen says as John comes back with a blanket which he wraps around her before sitting her down on one of the seats in the hall. "Did you find a note?"

"Nope," I say, walking through the kitchen doors and back into the hall, pulling off my latex gloves. "No note. We have nothing to go on."

"Where's the ambulance?" John asks.

"On it's way."

In other words, not for another eight minutes.

The paramedics come, the body is carted away and Helen is left behind, two family members less than she had before the beginning of the week. We don't know why he wanted to kill his stepdaughters, and neither will Helen.


	10. Epilogue

We have some spare time later in the day (which is in fact eight o'clock in the morning) and while dad and I prepare some toast for breakfast, John is updating his blog, again.

"He's writing about us again," I point out, stuffing a piece into my mouth as I sit on the counter, watching the cardigan-baring doctor as his fingers bounce up and down on the keys.

"I take it you aren't bothering with school today?" Dad asks me, swiping another slither of toast from my plate.

"Nah," I groan. "It wouldn't be worth the effort." Nodding, he picks up another slice of toast before walking back through the living room door and past John. He looks down at the computer screen as he passes, and stops as he looks at the title for the entry.

"Oh, for God's sakes!" Dad says, speaking with his mouth full.

"What?" John questions, raising his hands off the keys for a moment and reading back through his text.

"'The Speckled Blonde'?!" I read, coming up behind him. I see John purse his lips before dad walks away again, heading for the phone.

"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson calls, trotting up the stairs, two young girls following timidly behind her. "I found these two dearies outside. They want a word with you, I think." She moves to the side to allow the girls to pass, while I pull one of the dining chairs our for them to sit on. Dad seems to have forgotton his original business of phoning my school up, and is now instead pacing in front of the fireplace as he waits for them to begin.

"Our granddad died the other day," the eldest sister says sadly, swinging her feet idly as she spoke.

"But they wouldn't let us see Granddad when he was dead," the younger one pipes up. "Is that 'cause he'd gone to heaven?"

"People don't really go to heaven when they die," dad informs them, and I get a flashback of when I was younger and I'd asked the same question about mum. "They're taken to a special room and burned."

It had ruined my childhood when he'd told me that. The thought of my beautiful mother being burnt ... I still can't bare the thought sometimes. I just want to see her again.


End file.
